


Talking Smack

by perryvic, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Category: NCIS
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Slapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-16
Updated: 2011-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-18 04:50:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perryvic/pseuds/perryvic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Report done, and he tried again, moving into <i>Step Three -- make himself a goddamn pain in the ass</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talking Smack

A case running them through the night and Tony knew they were all getting a bit punchy round about the time Ziva declared she might wear something pink just to show him she could be feminine and a trained killer, and McGee spit cold coffee of his keyboard and nearly cried in geek induced mourning for the impending death of his well-worn keys.

Waiting for Abby to run results was always the part of the case where they got restless, and Tony couldn't help think that he was lacking a little attention from the boss. He'd cracked the case -- so he kept reminding McGee and Ziva loudly because they hadn't believed him when he said he'd gone back to talk to the girlfriend on a lead, not to get her number like McGee thought.

But nothing from Gibbs. Nothing when he'd been caught trying to adapt a speech from _Manhunter_ to the scene of the crime -- _The Fugitive_ was his favorite, but it didn't fit this time, or when he tried to force the boss to stop for food. Normally that would have been good for at least one solid head slap.

But he had nothing. Not even a little smack to go on, and it was getting him riled up. He wasn't sure if it was something he'd done wrong or if Gibbs was in one of his creepy not-really-Gibbs moods where he thought about things like retiring and Mike Franks. God, he hated those moods. They freaked everyone out. Okay, he could face it, they really freaked him out because that would mean going back to the time where he was in charge of a team who looked at him and all the time wanted someone else.

Yeah, he needed more coffee and he needed something else, too. And if Gibbs was having depressing thoughts then this would distract him. He put his default plan into action.

 _Step One: Poke at McGeek_

"You know, we could hold a memorial for your computer," he said. "Abby would wear black, and weep bitter tears for the untimely murder of one so young with so many searches left to run, and data to process..."

"It's just the keyboard. I don't have any spares on me." He'd unplugged it and was laying out paper towels on his desk, and Tony had no idea why, but whatever. "Crap. You're not using yours..."

"Oh… no, no, you think I would trust my stuff to a technological torturer like you?" Tony answered, deliberately using his most annoying teasing tone. "I think not, Probie."

"You know McGee looks after his things more carefully than you do," Ziva answered and Tony was aware that Gibbs was paying attention even if he wasn't looking at them yet.

"Uh-huh. And that's why he's… turning his keyboard upside down." Strange. Tony spun back to his computer, considering pretending to be focused.

Goddammit, no sign of movement from Gibbs. Was one little head slap too much to ask? Obviously one slap on the butt was too much to ask, and would most likely lead to an embarrassing stain if it ever did happen, but over the years he'd managed to generalize it so that a head slap would get him going.

 _Step Two: Annoying pop culture references, guaranteed to drive Gibbs insane, and confuse the hell out of Ziva._

"You know, this could be a bit like the movie _The Breakfast Club_ , all of us locked in overnight, like in a pressure cooker..." He caught the movement from Gibbs's desk with a barely concealed smirk. Yes, that cracked it.

"Don't you have work to do, DiNozzo?" Yes, sure, but Gibbs wasn't getting out of his chair. "Bank records."

"Sure, Boss. On it, Boss." Truth was he had pretty much done that already.

How hard was it to get a head slap? Sometimes he managed it multiple times in a day without even trying. He sat down and worked for a while, concentrating, but they all knew it hinged on what Abby came up with. He typed up a report, which didn't take that long, and more of his mind was drifting over to angling for a head slap. Gibbs didn't hold back, as people realized if they experienced it. It was a sharp stinging jolt that would rattle the teeth and there was something that just... well, there was a whole psychiatrist's wet dream in the reasons why it was something he seemed to crave. Contrary to Ziva's belief that he was a shallow clown, he was aware of himself enough to know he had attention issues, masochistic issues, too, sometimes. He'd been Gibbs's senior agent long enough for everyone in NCIS to be sure he got off on pain and humiliation. Less of the humiliation but the discipline, attention and head smacks? Well that was a whole load of issues tangled up right there.

It was a good thing Tony liked his issues. They were pretty much the only things keeping him company these days.

He really just needed to find a dom or someone to smack him around, no pretense needed, but part of the joy was that it wasn't completely sexual on the part of the person doing it to him. It felt all that much more forbidden that way. Well, maybe it was more the fact it was Gibbs doing it, which counted as the ultimate in forbidden, because Gibbs just wouldn’t go there with the sexual even if the world was coming to an end, even if he dyed his hair red and wore sheer stockings -- yeah, probably best not to go there right now. It did make him unaccountably jealous when other people got head slapped. That was his thing. That was a DiNozzo and Gibbs thing, a sign of a special relationship. It had saved his life, the one thing he remembered clearly from having the plague. A tiny sting of a slap with a whispered command and the surge of adrenalin had given him enough strength to keep breathing.

Report done, and he tried again, moving into _Step Three -- make himself a goddamn pain in the ass_.

He sniped at Ziva and McGee, he made bad jokes, he needled at Gibbs and made a nuisance of himself getting into a fake argument and trying to drag everyone in until he was irritated at himself.

It didn't work. It just wasn't taking, though Gibbs looked irritated, and finally stood up. "DiNozzo. Come with me, we're going to see Abby." And he was probably going to ditch him down there and get Tony out of his hair. Either that or strangle him and toss him down the stairwell.

"On your six, Boss," he answered following him to the elevator, a little manic in his energy now. They were all beyond tired now, and he tended to go a bit out there sometimes. That’s when he really needed it.

When he got into the elevator, he wasn't really surprised when Gibbs hit the switch that turned it off halfway, and then smacked him sharply on the side of the head. "What the hell has gotten into you?"

"Nothing, Boss," he said immediately as the endorphins flowed and tension unraveled. He tried not to grin like a loon because it had to be really obvious that Gibbs had just snapped what had been winding him tight. "Just hyped for the case, nearly got our man -- that's probably breaking some rule, using the Mountie motto, isn't it? But you know, nothing like getting the bad guy.

"Which we haven't yet. Might not even be our guy." That was a total lie and denial of truth, and they both knew it. "So just keep yourself together until it's time."

"Right, Boss," Tony grinned. Getting a head slap was worth it. And it had been a good one. He rubbed the back of his head gingerly as Gibbs set the elevator going down again and tried to behave for the time being.

The only problem came when it stopped at the floor where he caught the parking garage out another set of doors, and Gibbs was looking at him. "Go home, shower, and get some sleep."

"Come on, Boss," Tony said a little alarmed. Had he pushed Gibbs too hard to get his daily fix? "You know Abs is going to have the goods.

"Yup. Go home, and get some rest." And he really, really wasn't expecting to get slapped on the ass to jar him out of the elevator.

Oh fucking hell, it did, it did exactly what he suspected it might do, especially after being wound up all day. It was like a hardwired connection to his cock and the fact the head slap made him hard just meant one astonishing butt slap and he just came in his pants as he stumbled forwards too dazed and distracted to argue further.

"I'll see you tomorrow, DiNozzo." And then, before he could really even turn around and argue, he caught a glimpse of his boss as the elevator doors closed, glancing down at his groin and then back to meet his eyes.

And Gibbs was grinning.


End file.
